


The Cornfield

by anemic_cinema



Series: World's End Boyfriend [6]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Misogyny, Racism, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemic_cinema/pseuds/anemic_cinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: No queers after the zombie apocalypse? I don't think so. Daryl can't keep Merle from being a bastard to Glenn, and it only gets worse. TW: racist violence, homophobia/homophobic language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cornfield

The sun was high and hot when Daryl crawled out of his tent. Merle was sitting around tinkering with his motorcycle. When he saw his younger brother coming out of his tent he waved the wrench he was holding as an acknowledgement at his presence. Daryl felt anxiety grip him. 'Please please please don't let him ask what I'm doing today.' “Mornin' sunshine. You got anything you gotta do today?” Shit. Daryl tried to shrug it off, “Nothing much...just going out to a farm nearby, see if I can get anything useful there.” 

“Oh yeah? Anyone goin' with you?”

“The Chinese kid said he wanted to tag along.” Daryl tried to sound casual. He knew Merle would have something to say about it. 

His brother snorted. “Him? Shit, yer gonna have to be babysitting that little bastard the whole time!”

“He can handle himself.”

Merle looked at him like he'd just said the dumbest thing he'd ever heard. “Bullshit. He's a goddamn pussy who's only good at runnin'.You know that if he gets his ass bit yer gonna be the one Shane's gonna blame.” He stood up, tossing the wrench back in his tool-bag. “Look, I'll come along with ya, like that you don't have to worry 'bout looking after him.”

Daryl tried very hard not to betray how much he thought the idea was terrible. He was nervous enough being around Glenn, but with his brother it was guaranteed to be a total clusterfuck. Merle was for sure going to hassle the kid, and there was no way he could step in without his brother getting suspicious of his intentions. This was not going to be a good day.

*******

When Daryl had shown up at Glenn's tent with his asshole brother in tow, any excitement Glenn had about going out on a mission with the older man vanished. He was too polite to straight up say it, but he'd rather get repeatedly punched in the face than spend more than five minutes around Merle. By the look on Daryl's face, he wasn't too happy about it either. But this excursion was for the good of the group, and his sense of decency and duty overrode the revulsion Merle caused within his being. 

The trek to the farmhouse was as uncomfortable as Daryl had feared. They hiked through the forest and down the highway in silence, as to not attract walkers. It felt awkward because Glenn was there, and he was so used to his talking all the time. It was ridiculous, but Daryl wished he would say something, anything, so he could at least hear the sound of his voice. 

The farmhouse stood alone in early afternoon heat, the hum of cicadas and birdsong the only sounds in the air. It was a two story structure with a wraparound porch, with a barn not far behind it, and surrounded by a cornfield. The three men walked down the long dirt driveway, keeping their eyes out for the slightest motion that would suggest the presence of walkers. “I'm gonna go take a look inside,” Merle spoke up, “you keep an eye on the chinaman.” Glenn flinched. He knew he couldn't say anything without risking a beat down, but he wanted nothing more than to tell Merle to go fuck himself. 

Daryl didn't say anything. It didn't surprise him, but it was disappointing. He'd hoped that Daryl would do the decent thing and tell his brother to shut up, but no. It was obviously too much to expect from him. Daryl avoided looking at him, feeling embarrassed by his brother's behavior, and walked over to the edge of the cornfield. He picked an ear of corn, ripped its waxy green leaves back, and sank his teeth into it to see if it was good for eating. The kernels were pale and plump, and when he bit into the vegetable, milky juice dripped from it. It tasted good and sweet. Tossing it aside, he began to snap more off of the stalks and throw them into his rucksack. 

Glenn joined him and picked off the biggest ears he could find. Daryl glanced over, trying to figure out what to say to the kid. He looked kinda pissed, which he didn't fault him for. Merle had that effect on people. He looked over the field, the stalks swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. Stopping what he was doing, he stood there staring out at the scenery. Despite everything that had happened, and everything that had been lost, the natural world was still as it had always been. It gave him something to hang onto, that no matter what happened plants would still grow and wave in the wind. “It's nice here...” he murmured. Glenn turned towards him, surprised by the beatific expression on the older man's face. He'd never met anyone so into nature and that kind of stuff.

He shrugged, “I guess, if you like cornfields.” It came out a lot edgier than intended, and Daryl looked abashed. “I mean, I'm not really a outdoors kinda guy, so I wouldn't know.”

Daryl made a small noise and went back to picking corn. Glenn hadn't meant to make him feel weird about being so into the landscape surrounding them. It kinda felt like he'd just kicked a dog. Suddenly, he felt the other man grip his arm hard. Before he could protest, he was dragged into the field, and knocked onto the ground flat on his back. “What the fu-” Daryl fell down besides him, covered his mouth with his hand and hissed “Shut up!” at him. It was barely a minute later that he heard the motor of a truck rumbling towards the house. 'Jesus,' Glenn thought, 'that guy has some good ears on him.' 

The both of them stayed still between the rows of corn, trying their best not to do so much as breathe too loudly. They could hear voices coming from the house, but couldn't make them out. They sounded male, and they caught a few stray words here and there. “...empty...” “...ain't no one here...” “...gimme that goddamn gun...” There was the sound of a door opening and closing, of footsteps on the porch. Daryl lifted his head a fraction, and saw in the distance three men. Big, mean looking bastards, all holding guns and looking around. Daryl didn't like the look of them. While he wasn't good with people, he could suss out whether or not they were dangerous pretty well. These assholes looked like trouble, big time. 

A fourth man exited the house, shaking his head. He went over to the others, spoke to them briefly, and they piled back into their truck. After a few minutes the truck drove off. He breathed out, his chest heaving. His heart was pounding, and adrenaline was pulsing through his system. A small cough sounded out, and he looked over at Glenn. His hand was still covering his mouth, and all of a sudden he was acutely aware of the feeling of his lips and his breath against his hand, and the heat of his body. He jerked away, and stood. It was too close to what he dreamed of having, and too real.

Glenn sat up, looking at the flustered man. He had no idea what to make of the intensity of his reaction, and how out of sorts he looked.“That was a close one.” Daryl nodded, not looking at him. He didn't like being this shook up, not in front of Glenn. The younger man hauled himself back up, brushing dirt from his pants by reflex, even though they were already filthy. “You've got like, X-Men-level hearing, man. Holy shit.” 

Daryl's mouth twitched into a small smile at the compliment. It disappeared as quickly as it came when he realized that Merle was still in the house, and he couldn't discern any movement inside it. Dropping the rucksack, he sprinted towards the building. He felt like one giant white knuckle, and all he could see in his minds eye was his brother's lifeless corpse. Glenn rushed after him, not knowing what else to do but follow him. They burst through the front door of the house. It was a small place, with family pictures on the wall, well worn furniture, and the smell of rotting garbage in the air. There was a dried smear of blood on the wall by the stairs. Daryl went from the living room, to the kitchen, opening every door he saw, calling out Merle's name as quietly as he could. 

Glenn went up the stairs, trying not to think too much about the blood on the wall, and what appeared to be crusted gore on the banister. There were two bedrooms on the second floor. The first one was a master bedroom, and the second one was a child's room, with stuffed animals on the shelves and a doll on the unmade bed. He felt a chill run down his spine. There was something really fucked about this, looking around this empty house where the only signs of previous life was rumpled beds, the smell of rot, and blood. Glenn went into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. It was funny in a sick way how the smallest things could overwhelm you. He rested his head in his hands, hunched over. 

Daryl was in full panic mode when he bounded up the stairs, frantically looking around and gripping his crossbow. Merle was nowhere to be found. He looked into the bathroom, and stopped in his tracks. Glenn was slumped over on the edge of the tub, looking defeated. “What the fuck are you doin'?” Daryl did not want to deal with any kind of pity party when they needed to find his brother. Glenn sighed and stood up. “Sorry...just...I got kinda weird for a second.” He looked shaky and a little pale. The older man stared at him, not sure if he should say anything, and if he did, what he would say. 

There was a creak above their heads, and they both started. The sound moved, like there was something up under the roof. Daryl stepped back into the hallway, still looking up. He could see an attic door in the ceiling, and he trailed his crossbow towards it. With a crash it slammed open, stairs shot out from it, and Merle came tumbling down from it. “Fuck!” Daryl stood down, relief washing over him. “Jesus tittyfuckin' Christ that was close.” Merle gripped onto the stairs and pulled himself up. “I found some vicodin and some penicillin in the bathroom, but that's about it. I'm fuckin' done with this place, let's get the fuck outta here.” Daryl nodded and they started down the stairs, Glenn trailing behind them. 

*******

The rest of the group was overjoyed when they saw the corn. They hadn't had any fresh produce in what seemed like forever, and it was cause for minor celebration. That evening, they glutted themselves on the ripe ears, reveling in the luxury of it. They'd thanked the trio profusely, which Merle drank up even though he'd done next to nothing. Daryl wasn't comfortable with that kind of praise, always half-expecting it to be followed by a smack or something crueler. Consequently, he went off to eat by himself at the bottom of the quarry, watching the reflection of the sunset's light on the water.

“Wow, it's really nice here.” Daryl turned his head when he heard the voice coming from behind him. Glenn was just standing there, admiring the riot of colors. “Yeah.” Daryl answered, turning back to face the show nature was putting on. The younger man sat next to him, not too close thankfully. They sat in silence, watching the sunset. “Thanks.” Glenn said it so quietly that Daryl almost missed it. 

“For what?”

“For the save earlier, at the farm. I wouldn't have heard that damn truck if it had just been me. It was pretty awesome how you did that.”

Daryl shrugged. He wasn't used to anyone thanking him or complimenting him. “I was just paying attention.” He let out a long exhaling breath. “I'm sorry about Merle. He wanted to tag 'long.”

Glenn couldn't help but make a face. “Don't worry about it. It was fine.”

“No, it wasn't.” He couldn't figure out how to say it, but he wanted to let Glenn know he was sorry for how his brother treated him, and that he didn't stop Merle from being a dick to him. He didn't have the words for it though.

“I'm used to it.” Hearing that stung Daryl and reminded him that he was just as guilty as his brother of being an asshole to Glenn. He couldn't think of anything to say to that. He let his gaze drift over to the young man. His profile looked so nice in the soft light of the setting sun. Daryl memorized the curves and gentle angles of his face at that moment, so that when he closed his eyes to sleep he'd be able to see it again. The sun was sinking and the edge of the sky was turning dark blue in the twilight. “Wanna head back up?” Glenn asked. 

“Yeah, let's go.” Daryl grabbed his plate, and stood. It struck him then that he'd just watched the sunset with Glenn, like in the old romantic cliché. He wondered if Glenn realized that, and if he did, what he thought about it. They walked side by side back up to the campsite in the dimming light. “You got watch duty tonight?” Glenn asked. 

“Nah. I got the night off.”

“Want to come play cards with me and Dale?”

It was just an invitation, but it felt like a punch to the chest. Daryl didn't get it. He was just a prick who couldn't even stop his own brother from saying nasty racist shit, why did Glenn even bother with trying to be nice to him? 

“No thanks. I need to sharpen my huntin' knife.”

“Oh. Ok. Maybe some other time then?”

Daryl nodded in a non-committal fashion. When they close to his camping spot he said goodbye as quickly as possible and scurried to the safety of his tent. Merle was sitting in front of the fire set up between their tents cleaning his gun. “Where you been? I was gonna share some of the vicodin with ya.”

“I was 'round.” He went into his tent without another word to his brother. All he wanted to do was think about the sunset, and how soft Glenn's lips had been against his hand. They'd been even nicer to feel than he could have imagined. The memory of them laying side by side amongst the rows of corn would come in handy later, but this time he'd make it different. In his mind he'd make it so they weren't hiding from danger, but just laying there for the joy of being there with each other, not scared of anything. 

*******

Merle sat there, alone and feeling annoyed. He'd been wondering what the hell was going on with his baby brother. Ever since they'd decided to stick around with the others in the camp, he'd been acting weird-like. He wasn't as much fun as he used to be, and he sure as hell didn't like the way him and that kid were getting chummy.

Merle wasn't a stupid man, and was much more observant than people gave him credit for. He could tell that something was up between the two of them, and he didn't like it one bit. The little chinaman bitch hung around the old bastard, that blonde dyke and her sweet-piece-of-ass sister, and that told him everything he needed to know about him. He was probably a fag to boot, sure as shit looked like one anyways. He took personal offense at the mere idea of him being anywhere near Daryl. His brother didn't need to be hanging around that kind of trash, and it was up to him to nip that shit in the bud. 

*******

Glenn's card game with Dale had been half-hearted and distracted at best. After the second hand, he excused himself and said goodnight. His mind kept going back to the cornfield, and how Daryl had been so quick to protect him. Logically, it had just been a reflex on the other man's part, but he kinda wanted to believe it was more than that. Heading back to his tent, he decided to take a quick detour into the woods, needing to relieve himself. In his distracted daze, he didn't hear the quiet footsteps behind him. It wasn't until an arm wrapped around his neck hard enough to make him choke that he realized he'd been followed. 

“Listen you little piece of yellow trash. I don't want you around my brother. I don't want you talkin' to him. I don't want you hangin' around him. I don't want you even lookin' at him. Got it, you fuckin' chink?” The words were spoken quietly but with deadly venom. “If I catch you tryin' to make buddy buddy with him, I'm gonna take you out to the woods and make you wish yer mama'd swallowed.” Glenn could feel something sharp against this ribs, and tried to struggle away from it. The arm around his throat tightened. “Trust me, I know how to handle punk bitches like you.” With just as much force as he'd been grabbed, he was shoved down to the leaf-covered ground. Glenn heaved, trying to catch his breath, his windpipe still feeling constricted. He could barely cry out when the boot connected with his ribs. “And that's a fuckin' promise faggot. Stay away from him.” 

Glenn stayed down on the ground, gasping for air, praying for the pain to recede and for Merle to leave. Thankfully, he did, as quietly as he'd come upon him. It took him a while to regain enough composure to walk to his tent. He didn't want anyone seeing him like this. There was no doubt in his mind that Merle had meant every single word he'd said, and that if he saw him anywhere near Daryl, he'd be fucked. He couldn't ask Shane or T-Dog for help, because if they threw Merle out, Daryl would follow him. 

And that was the punchline to the sick fucking joke. Despite everything, he liked that redneck bastard and did care what happened to him. He'd made the mistake of giving a fuck about Daryl, despite the fact that there was no goddamn reason he should. Except that he saw a small glimmer of kindness within him that made him wonder what else could be hiding under the surface. He'd been foolish, and now he was paying for it. He stumbled to his tent and collapsed inside of it, his ribs and throat aching. 

Tears of rage and humiliation came to his eyes. There was nothing he could do about it, because he knew that Merle was not making idle threats. Who knew what he was capable of doing to him? So he'd have to cave in, and do as he'd been told, so he could survive. He'd forget anything having to do with Daryl that made him smile. Throw away the memories of sitting with him, and feeling comfortable with him. Forget that he ever thought he was interesting or good-looking. He'd stop himself from ever wondering again what it would be like to kiss Daryl, and how he'd react to it if he did. 

He wondered if that bastard Merle knew how much it hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> Merle is an awful man, but don't worry, he's gonna get his comeuppance sooner than later.


End file.
